Innocent
by breathing-for-this-moment
Summary: "Time turns flames to embers I hope you remember, today is never too late to be brand new." Mara has a message for Jerome. Story better than summary, my first fanfic!
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Hey guys! Moments here, with my first ever fanfiction! This story was actually written a while ago, so it takes place between seasons 1 and 2. So when I wrote it, I didn't know anything about Jerome's dad being in jail. I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own house of anubis or the song Innocent by Taylor Swift. If I did, Jara would definitely be canon by now.**

Innocent

"And next up, performing an original song, we have Mara Jaffray!" The announcer speaks into the microphone, talking to a large crowd of students and parents. People I know, people I love, all waiting to hear me sing for the first time. The host walks off the stage to a few polite claps, muttering a quick "break a leg" to me as he passes. I take one last look at myself in the full length mirror propped against the wall. My dress is a swirl of purples and pinks and blues, a pretty floral pattern that is one of my favorites. It fits my body perfectly, with a flowing, swishing skirt that falls just above the knee. A cropped cardigan of white lace and simple ballet flats complete the look. My makeup is natural, my hair in loose curls. It's exactly what I'm going for: simple, pretty, _innocent_, and I take confidence from that.

Still, I can't believe I'm about to do this. I mean, what am I thinking? Singing at the school talent show, it's just not me. Performing is for people like Amber, pretty and popular and comfortable in the spotlight. I'm Mara, sensible and dependable and shy Mara. I don't belong center stage, and I feel like a fake. A poser for even thinking I could do this. When you do nothing but fade into the background for so long, the opportunity to stand under a spotlight is a lot scarier than it should be.

But there's something I have to do, something I have to say. And singing this song is the only way I know how to get my message across, to allow my words to be heard. So I take a deep breath, try to quiet the millions of butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, and then walk out onto the stage.

The stage is mostly dark, I didn't want anything crazy. There's just a single light, illuminating a wooden stool with an acoustic guitar propped next to it. The microphone they wired through the inside of my dress is cold against my chest. My heart pounds loudly in my ears, and the short walk from the wings to the stage seems to last a life time. I can feel the audience's surprise. "Mara? Mara is going to sing? I didn't even know Mara COULD sing!" Well, they wouldn't know that, would they? It's not exactly a fact I wear on my sleeve. But I do sing, I have since I was little. When you feel trapped inside your own home, you have to find some way to be heard, to let your emotions out. I pour my heart and soul into my music, its the only way I stay sane. Letting my feelings onto paper means that I don't have to let them out to someone else.

Which is why, more than anyone else in the audience, I am probably the most surprised that I am up here. But this message is too important. He has to hear it, he has to know.

Finally, I reach the stool. I sit down and sling the guitar strap over my shoulder, resting it on my lap. "Hi, everyone." My voice is magnified by the microphone; it echoes through the silent auditorium. "Um, I'm Mara, which I guess you already knew." A nervous chuckle, escaping my lips in a forbidden breath, is met with silence. "This is a song I wrote recently, for someone very important to me. He's done some bad things, but who hasn't? You know who you are...this one's for you."

One last deep breath, and then my fingers start to strum at the guitar, a melody so familiar I could play it in my sleep. Notes quiver off the strings and then float into the air, hovering there for a moment before the next chord is played. I don't think I've ever heard the student body this quiet.

"_I guess you really did it this time  
>Left yourself in your war path.<br>Lost your balance on a tight rope  
>Lost your mind trying to get it back."<em>

Words escape my lips, quiet at first, unsure. But with every breath they get louder, more confident. My eyes roam over the audience, searching for the familiar faces of my friends. And there they are, grouped together as usual, the residents of Anubis House. They are all staring at me, captivated.

My gaze lands on Patricia first. She's smirking at me, the only one who isn't surprised by my appearance on the stage. In fact, she's the one who pointed out the sign up sheet to me in the first place, the one who convinced me to audition. She is the only one that knew about my singing alter ego, and when she found out I made her swear not to tell anyone else. She caught me strumming at my guitar and scrawling lyrics in an old notebook one too many times, and finally discovered the truth. Still, though I was upset that singing wasn't my secret anymore, I was secretly glad when she found out. I mean, she is my roommate. It's easier now that I don't have to hide anything from her.

My gaze moves over to Mick. He's sitting at the fringes of the group, on one side of Patricia. I wonder if he wishes he were sitting next to Amber. He's hard to look at, but I make myself do it. Ever since we broke up a few weeks ago, we have pretty much avoided each other. Or rather, he's been avoiding me and I've been going along with it. He ended it with me, and I think he's afraid of what I'll do when I see him again. Maybe he thinks he broke my heart, that when I see him I'll be angry, or worse, start sobbing. Following the tough jock stereotype perfectly, Mick never was very brave when it came to feelings.

Truth is, though, that I'm not any of those things. I was hurt, at first, but now I'm just grateful. I'm grateful for the time we spent together. I'm grateful that he wanted me, I'm grateful that he chose me to be his girlfriend. I'm grateful because when we were together, I felt beautiful. I thought, here's Mick Campbell. He could have any girl in school, and he chose me. I'm grateful because he made me feel special, and that's something that isn't easy to do. I tried everything to make our relationship work, I really did. In the end, though, it wasn't enough. Because although Mick is sweet, and kind hearted, and wonderful, and he made me feel as if I was floating, something I can't deny is that I never felt good enough for him. I felt I could never compare with past girlfriends, like Amber. And I guess I couldn't.

But that doesn't mean I can't be grateful for him. I know a lot of people will think this song is for Mick, but it's not. So my gaze travels to the people sitting on the other side of Patricia.

Nina and Fabian are side by side, holding hands. It makes me want to smile, because if anyone deserves a happy ending, they do. They are both looking at me with surprised expressions, but there's a bit of pride in there, too. Mostly, though, they look happy. Drunk off eachother's presences. He leans over and whispers something into her ear, and she laughs. And cue the sappy love song.

Sitting next to them is Amber. She's looking at me with an unreadable expression; I can't tell if it's happy or sad or angry or indifferent. She never really forgave me for stealing Mick, and that is something I am truly sorry for. I lost a really great friend over him, and in the end he wasn't worth it.

This song isn't for Amber, either, but I hope she listens to the lyrics and realizes that alienating her is something I will never forgive myself for.

Finally, I've reached the last two members of the Anubis group. Alfie is next to Amber. I watch him yawn and stretch, snaking his arm around Amber's shoulders and resting it there. I almost laugh; such a classic Alfie move. She looks at him for a moment and flips her hair, but doesn't move his arm. Good. Amber deserves happiness after everything that happened with Mick, and Alfie is one of the sweetest, most good-hearted people I've ever met. Plus, I'd be lying if I said it didn't give me a sort of twisted, sweet vindiction that when all is said and done, Mick didn't get the girl anyway.

Yeah, yeah. It's petty, and I said I was over him and I'm a bigger person and all that. I'm also a teenage girl. Sue me.

My eyes reach the last person. He's sitting next to Alfie, on the fringes of the group, as always. My brown eyes find his icy blue ones and stay there. Finally, I've found the person who this song is for.

_"Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days  
>Always a bigger bed to crawl into<br>Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything,  
>And everybody believed in you."<em>

Jerome Clarke. His eyes lock with mine, staring at me intently. It leaves me breathless and I almost forget what part of the song I'm at. He runs a finger through his shaggy dark blonde hair, and his expression is unreadable. I should've known it would be. Jerome builds walls to protect himself, I knew that. So its not like I expected him to start crying or anything. Truthfully, I'm not sure what I was expecting, only that it wasn't the cool indifference that I was receiving now. His gaze is electric, sending shocks down my spine. I want desperately to look away, but I can't. I have to stay strong. Because he has to know. He has to know that I mean every word I sing, he has to understand that this song was written for him and only him.

_"It's alright, just wait and see  
>Your string of lights is still bright to me<br>Who you are is not what you did  
>You're still an innocent..."<em>

My family isn't perfect, I'm the first to admit that. My parents live and breathe sports, and they wanted me to follow in their footsteps. And I tried to please them, I tried until my my arms were sore and my legs were bruised. But their idea of a perfect daughter just isn't who I am. I'm not athletic, and I never will be.

They still love me, though. I may never win an olympic medal, but my parents always told me there was a nobel prize out there with my name on it. And though I know in my heart that there will always be a part of them that wishes I will one day wake up and be a jock, I also know that they try their best to accept me for who I am. They try to be proud of my accomplishments, no matter what field they come from.

Jerome doesn't have that. When my parents said goodbye to me on my first day of boarding school, I knew that it was only temporary. There would be visits and phone calls and birthday cards, they weren't leaving me. Not for good. When Jerome's parents said goodbye to him, it was much more permanent. And I see that it kills him inside. I see it in his eyes, when the phone rings and it isn't for him, when the mail comes and he doesn't get any letters. He tries to pretend that it doesn't bother him, that he's stopped caring. But every time there's a little, tiny part of him that dares to hope. And every time he's dissappointed. And every time the light in his brilliant, icy blue eyes dims a little.

I wish he could see that he is so much more than what his parents make him out to be.

_"Did some things you can't speak of,  
>But at night you live it all again.<br>You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now  
>If only you had seen what you know now then."<em>

I remember when he first told me about his parents. How they left him at boarding school when he was 5 and he hasn't spoken to them since. How they left him here to rot, and how he thinks that that's exactly what he did.

I wish he could see that he isn't rotten. On the contrary, he's one of the freshest, funniest,_ brightest_ people I know.

He pushes people away to avoid getting hurt, to avoid the inevitable disappointment he knows all humans bring. He makes nasty comments and pulls cruel pranks all so people won't bother getting to know the real him. He blackmails and cheats and in the end all it does is tear him down and push people away. People who could know him and care about him and love him. People like me.

I know he doesn't like to live with all the bad things he does. All the lies he's told, all the people he has hurt, I can tell that it haunts him. But he doesn't know any other way to live. He said he wasn't a kind person, but that was the biggest lie I've ever heard him tell.

_"Wasn't it beautiful in your fire fly catching days,  
>When everything out of reach someone bigger brought down to you.<br>Wasn't it wonderful runnin' wild 'till you fell asleep,  
>Before the monsters caught up to you."<em>

You know, I'm supposed to be one of the smartest in Anubis House, maybe in the whole school. I'm not trying to sound full of myself or anything, but genius has always been part of my identity. Even before my parents sent me to boarding school, I was always known for my intelligence. When I came here, my smarts quickly became all I was known for. I'm not complaining, because there are worse reputations to have, but sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be seen as more than a brain.

Still, for someone who's supposed to be brilliant, how could I have been so stupid when it came to Jerome? How could it have taken me so long to realize that there was so much more to him than he let others see? How could I not have seen that beneath his tough exterior lay a vast ocean of hurt, past rejections building up inside him until he decided it was easier just to shut down completely?

He runs from the truth, from pain and hurt. He runs from his past, from the abandonment he feels every time he thinks of his parents. But he can't run forever, and his monsters are catching up to him. They claw and growl and sprint and won't stop until they've torn him down. His free, careless days were over before they ever really had a chance to begin, and now he needs someone to save him from himself.

If ever there was a person I wanted to save, it would be Jerome Clarke. So how could I not have realized he needed my help? They say people who are "academically gifted" lack common sense, but I never thought I would take that statement to such an extremity.

_"It's alright, just wait and see  
>Your string of lights is still bright to me<br>Who you are is not where you've been  
>You're still an innocent.<em>

_It's ok, life is a tough crowd  
>16, that's still growin' up now<br>Who you are is not what you did  
>You're still an innocent..."<em>

I'm a girl who likes routine. Normalcy, dependibility, its all a part of who I am. That's why, even after I realized something was wrong with Jerome, it took me so long to talk to someone about it. I knew that whatever I found out would change my life, and perspective, forever. And I wasn't sure if that was a change I wanted to make. Eventually, though, I managed to gather up enough courage to confront Alfie Lewis about Jerome's parents, about his past. I had decided to talk to Alfie because I knew Jerome wouldn't give me any answers, and Alfie was the next best thing. I'd rarely ever seen one without the other, and I knew that if Jerome were to confide in anyone, it would be his best friend and partner in crime.

Once I had made my decision to confront Alfie, actually finding the right moment to confront him was another obstacle entirely. The first step was finding him alone, something much more difficult than it sounds. Alfie was not one to sit in solitude, I had never met someone before who had such an attachment to other human beings. He was a people person, through and through. But this was not a conversation meant for public ears. Unfortunately, Alfie was always with Fabian, Nina, Patricia, and Amber. Or with Jerome. Or with both groups. Or sleeping, or pulling a prank, or doing something else to earn himself a few laughs from his classmates. Just as I was beginning to lose hope, though, the perfect opportunity arose.

It was a Tuesday afternoon right before a huge biology test. I knew Alfie needed to do well on it, I had heard him complain to Jerome about his grade in the class. So when he wasn't joking around in the common room like usual that night, I realized he must be studying. I was right. I found him, alone, in the room he shared with Jerome. He was sitting indian style on the floor, at least five different books open to different pages and spread out around him. An assortment of papers from the beat up notebook resting beside him were strewn haphazardly, filling up any empty spaces in his little "circle of knowledge". It was obvious he was cramming, and cramming hard. He hadn't noticed me enter the room, so I knocked a few times on the open door. He jumped a little at the sound, causing papers to fly across the room from the disruption.

His face broke into a relieved grin when he realized who his intruder was. "Mara!" He cried, a sigh in his voice. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here. You know I'm no good at this whole school thing, but we have that HUGE test tomorrow and I really need to ace it. Or at least pass it. Do you think you could help me study?"

I gingerly stepped into the room and walked over to him, careful not to disrupt any of his papers. "Actually, Alfie, I'm here with a purpose." I sat down across from him, folding my legs underneath me. An apologetic note colored my tone.

"Oh." He looked disappointed, but only for a moment. It takes a lot to get Alfie Lewis down. "Well, that's ok. Any excuse to stop studying. What do you need?"

I took a deep breath. This was it, there was no turning back now. And I wasn't sure I was ready. Ready to dive so completely into Jerome's world. Yet... at the same time I had never been more eager for anything in my entire life. I didn't need to take the plunge because I was already treading water. I was floating, and the shore was in sight. Jerome had done terrible things, yes, but those things didn't define him. He was more than what he'd done in the past. 16 is still small, still young. It was ok that he still had things to learn and discover, ok that he was still growing up. His life had been tough, and that made him tough, at least on the outside. That much I understood, but it still wasn't enough. I needed to find out more because the only way I could help would be to understand him. So I locked eyes with his best friend.

"Tell me everything you know about Jerome's parents."

_"Time turns flame to embers  
>You'll have new Septembers<br>Every one of us has messed up too."_

Alfie seemed taken aback by my question. I suppose this was to be expected, because it wasn't a question a person like me was supposed to ask. He looked back down at his papers, shuffling them around nervously.

"His parents? Why do you ask? I don't know, Mara, ask him. Actually, I've really got to get back to studying, so if you could...you know...leave..."

I sighed. "Alfie, that's a lie and we both know it. I'm asking you because I know Jerome would never tell me the truth. He's told you about them, I know he has."

Alfie stopped shuffling papers and looked up at me, a resigned look coming into his brown eyes. "He'd kill me if he found out I told you, Mara. He doesn't want anyone to know."

"So let's not let him find out." Alfie looked down, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of keeping anything from his best friend, of sharing a secret that wasn't his to tell. "Alfie," I made my voice gentle, persuasive. "This is something I need to know. I'm finding out for his own good."

"Look, I don't know that much, OK?" He sounded defeated. "He's secretive, even with me. He doesn't want anyone to know anything about his past. I just know that his parents left him at boarding school when he was five, and never returned. No phone calls, no birthday cards, no nothing. He could be dead and they wouldn't care." He paused. This much information I already knew, so I didn't say anything, only waited patiently for him to continue.

"I remember our first parent day together. It was a few months after I'd met him, so I really didn't know anything about his parents at that point. But I remember that all the parents showed up, gushing about their kids and acting excited about every little thing. Even mine came, and I don't exactly have the best parents in the world. Jerome's never showed up, though. He just tagged along with my family all day, sucking up to my parents. They absolutely adore Jerome, you know. Sometimes it bothers me that I think they wish he was their son instead of me, but I let him get away with it because his own parents wish they didn't have a son at all.

"I know everyone at this house, and probably the whole school, think he's this huge jerk. And yeah, maybe he can be sometimes. But he hasn't had the easiest life. And you've got to admit," A goofy smile spread over his face. "some of his pranks are bloody brilliant."

I laughed a little. "Yes, I suppose they are." My smile was forced, though. Because I could picture the scene Alfie described perfectly. A little Jerome, maybe 7 years old, watching in the backround as everyone else's parents hugged their children, his ice blue eyes weighted down with a sadness a 7 year old should never have to feel. It was heartbreaking.

I got up to leave. I had learned all that I could from Alfie.

"Hey, Mara? Whatever you're going to do with what I told you...you didn't hear it from me, alright?"

I smiled and turned back one last time, looking at the boy who was closer to Jerome than any other human being on Earth, who knew more about him than he had ever allowed anyone to know, and yet still was so far away and knew so little. "Good luck with your studying, Alfie."

And then I left.

_"Lives change like the weather  
>I hope you remember<br>Today is never to late to  
>Be brand new."<em>

These are maybe my favorite lyrics of the whole song. Jerome thinks he's stuck. He thinks he can't change. But I know he can. I believe in him. _Today is never to late to be brand new._ Please listen Jerome. Please.

After talking to Alfie, I didn't have a huge confrontation with Jerome. That wouldn't have helped, because he never would have listened. He would have changed the topic to something stupid as soon as anything remotely serious came up. Its just how he is.

So I wrote this song instead. I wrote it because right now, sitting on this stage and singing the lyrics that will, hopefully, break through his walls, he can't escape me. He can't change the subject or divert the attention away from himself. He can only sit there and listen to the truth.

_"Its all right, just wait and see,  
>Your string of lights are still bright to me.<br>Oh, who you are is not where you've been,  
>You're still and innocent.<em>

_Its ok, life is a tough crowd,  
>16, that's still growing up now<br>Who you are is not what you did  
>You're still an innocent."<em>

I enter the last chorus of the song. Its over, done, my last resort has played out.

Jerome, neither of us like confrontations. We're afraid of them, truthfully. Afraid of what might happen if either one of us says how we really feel. But this song is everything, laid out for everyone to see.

Maybe you won't listen. Maybe you won't care. For all I know, you could still hate me because of the whole Mick thing. But hear the song and know this:

Its never too late to change. Its never too late to be different. Your parents are stupid if they can't see the amazing person that's right in front of them, but don't close everyone else off because of their mistakes. Know that no matter what happens, I will always believe in you.

Know that I love you.

The song ends, and applause rings throughout the auditorium. Claps of thunder. The Anubis residents even give me a standing ovation.

My eyes leave Jerome's as I walk off the stage. Still I can feel them, burning into my back as they follow me into the wings.

He knows. He understands. I feel light and free as I set my guitar down, as if a giant weight has been lifted off my chest. He knows the song was for him. And maybe, just maybe, he'll take the words to heart.

I love you, Jerome Clarke. And no matter what anyone else says, that will never change. I see all the good qualities that others overlook. I see you smile and I hear your laugh and I feel like all my troubles have melted away. You said I brought out the best in you, but the truth is, you bring out the best in me. And I know that you will change for the better.

I know that you're still an innocent.

**Authors Note: Well? What did you think? review please! My first fanfiction, so I know my writing could definitely use some improvement! Constructive criticism is always appreciated. If I get a positive response, I might post a follow up chapter, which would have Jerome's reaction to the song. Let me know if you want it!  
>-Moments<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Hey guys! Oh gosh, award for the worst ever updater goes to...me. I am so, so, sooo sorry for the long wait. But I actually have some good reasons, which I will explain below to anyone who cares to read them. First, though, I just want to give a MASSIVE thanks to everyone who favorited this story and, especially, left a review. THANK YOU. You have absolutely no idea how much those meant to me. Seriously, the positive reaction I got to this story keeps me smiling. I hope you all like this chapter as much as you liked the first.**

**As for the reason this chapter is so late, I have just been crazy busy with school. I'm literally lucky if I get the chance to write once every two weeks. And then, a couple weeks ago, when I was about half way done with the chapter, I lost a friend to suicide. I don't tell you that for sympathy or anything, I just want you all to know that as much as I care about my readers and I really want to give you the best updates I can, I honestly just...haven't felt much like writing lately. So I know last chapter I said this was probably going to have two parts, but now I'm splitting it into three because I wanted my wonderful readers to have something, even though I'm not done with the story yet and probably won't be for a while.**

**So there you go! I'm done with the super long authors note now, I just wanted to let everyone know what was going on. I PROMISE that part three is on its way. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy part two of **_**Innocent**_**!**

"Are you sure it's ok, Mara, dear?" Trudy grabs her purse and edges towards the door, keeping her eyes trained on my back as I sit facing a dimly lit vanity. "I don't mind waiting a little longer, if you don't want to walk back alone." But her hand is resting lightly on the rusted doorknob and I can tell how much she wants to leave this dingy, small backstage.

I turn around to face her, plastering on my best, most reassuring smile. "Don't be silly, Trudy, of course I don't mind. Go home, I'll turn the lights off and lock everything up when I leave." We are the last two people in the auditorium.

"Well, if you're sure... You'll go straight back to Anubis House, yes? And, please, return before 10. Victor will have a fit if you aren't back."

I sigh. Trudy is such a mother duck sometimes. Its endearing, but all of her unecessary worry could be a bother. "I know, I know. Don't worry! I'll be fine, I just have to collect a few more of my things."

"Alright then." I can hear the relief that colors her voice. She twists the doorknob, opening her escape. The dressing rooms are more of a hallway, really, a box of a room in the middle of two narrow passageways that stretch behind the stage. The walls are black, paint scraping over the textured cement blocks that soundproof the area. The floor, a light, rough wood, is scuffed with many years of feet and the door makes an almost unearthly sound as it screeches open. Flourescent lights, placed in the ceiling, wash the room with a slightly blue glow.

"You were amazing, sweetie. I'm so proud of you." Trudy's parting words float through the open door as she steps outside, letting in a temporary rush of cool night air. My house mother, my second mother, walks away into the darkness and the door swings shut. I am completely, desperately alone. Finally.

Wonderful silence settles over me like a blanket. I get up from the overturned crate I was using as a seat and flip a switch, turning off the lights and bathing the room in a muted darkness. The only source of light now comes from the vanities, backed against the walls, bulbs around their mirrors lit up like Christmas trees. I return to mine and sit down, feeling for the first time all night as if I can honestly, properly breathe.

The minutes that have passed since the talent show ended (75) went by in a blur. The minutes that passed since I was left alone with Trudy (17) went by more slowly. And the minutes that have passed since I last saw Jerome Clarke (105)...well, they crawled. He was the only housemate that did not come to visit me after the show. Ironic, since his absence was the only one I would truly notice.

I was bombarded as soon as the last act left the stage. First came Patricia, beaming like a proud parent. ("I told you you could do it, Mara." She said as she punched me good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Only because you forced me." I teased.) Even if I played it off, her support meant a lot to me. Patricia was probably my best friend at Anubis house, and I yearned for her approval the same way any girl feels the need to be validated by her friends. Stupid, maybe, but I would be lying if I said the fact that I had impressed her didn't leave me with a satisfied feeling. If only because she is frank and real and, sometimes, rude, I know praise from Patricia is not to be taken lightly. Plus, she is the whole reason I performed, the only person stubborn and persistent enough to push me so completely out of my comfort zone. _Well, maybe not the only person. But he didn't even care enough to show up._

Next came Fabian and Nina, their intertwined fingers swinging back and forth between them, their smiles so big I was afraid their faces would split in two. When Nina saw me, she ran over and gave me the biggest hug, squeezing me tight. "That was really brave, Mara." Fabian had come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as soon as she let me go, as if physical contact was necessary at all times in order for them to function. _Don't you dare think about how much you want a certain dark blonde's arms to wrap around _your_ waist_. Fabian peaked over her shoulder, looking impressed. "Seriously, Mara, I had no idea that you could play guitar! But it was amazing, we'll have to play together sometime." I smiled and thanked them, and another rush of warmth swept through me. No matter how distant I had felt from them the past few months, these were my friends. These were the people who loved me, and wanted me to succeed. I wished that this epiphany was enough the calm the rapid beating of my heart, and that the warmth was enough completely chase away the icy feeling that had taken hold of me ever since I walked backstage and felt Jerome Clarke's eyes leave my own.

Alfie came, of course, although his visit was fleeting. I attribute this mostly to the fact that he was towing a reluctant Amber behind him. "Mara!" He cried, enveloping me in a bear hug and almost knocking me over. "That was great! Wow, I didn't know you sang. And to think, all the times I called you a braniac or a nerd, there was secretly this whole other rock star side of you just waiting to break free!" He pulled back and held me by my shoulders, surveying me intently, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Are you sure you haven't been overtaken by aliens?"

I laughed. "Charming, as always, Alfie." I looked over his shoulder, biting my lip, feeling almost shy. And there she was, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. Amber Millington. I shrugged off his hands and walked over to her, cautious, a lamb approaching a lion. Seeing her standing there brought back all the memories of the past, good and bad, and I was surprised by how much I wanted her forgiveness. "And what did you think, Amber?"

She didn't say anything for a moment, just contemplated me, gathering her long blonde hair and placing it over one shoulder before letting it fall loose again. Then she sighed. "You were, like, so amazing." Her tone was earnest, and I knew she meant it. And maybe it wasn't all I had hoped for. She didn't jump up and down, or squeal, or embrace me. But the look in her eyes gave me hope that maybe, just maybe, she would one day forgive me for stealing Mick Campbell. Then she opened her mouth again and said something that completely took me by surprise. "I always thought Jara would make a cute couple."

I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped to the floor. She knew? How on earth did she know? I realized that Amber was a lot more insightful than most people, including myself, gave her credit for. For his part, Alfie looked majorly confused. "Jara? What the heck is a Jara? Is that some kind of...girl code?" Amber rolled her eyes.

"Boys," she said, directing her words towards me. "_So _clueless." And then she grabbed Alfie by the arm, yanking him towards the exit. "Come on, I'll explain everything on the way back to the house." Oh God. If Alfie found out and told Jerome before I had a chance to speak to him, I was so, totally, and utterly screwed.

The last of my visitors, besides Trudy, was none other than Mr. Ex-boyfriend, Mick Campbell himself. "Hey, Mars," he said, calling me by my old nickname that only he ever used. He walked backstage slowly, approaching me like I was some sort of wild animal that could snap at any moment. Well, at least in his mind, I was a teenage girl nursing a broken heart. So I guess his fears weren't so unreasonable. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, flipping his mop of shaggy hair out of his eyes and offering a sheepish grin. "That was a cool song you sang back there. I didn't know you could sing." What was that, the third time someone had said words along those lines to me tonight? I was better at keeping secrets than I had thought.

Funny, isn't it, how a person could be so central to your life for so long and not know something so important. He finally reached me, looking as awkward and, I hated to admit it, adorable as ever. "I was hoping we could talk."

I sighed, plopping down on the crate/seat in front of my vanity, completely exhausted. "Didn't we already talk, Mick? Two weeks ago, when you said you wanted to break up with me?" As if either of us needed to be reminded of what had happened.

"Well, yeah, but I was hoping we could talk again." He grabbed a seat from the abandoned vanity next to mine and pulled it over, sitting down as well. I took him in. His warm brown eyes, his friendly smile, his muscled arms, everything that used to make my heart race, everything that used to feel like home, now just left me slightly empty. Completely emotionless. With a jolt, I realized that I really was over Mick Campbell.

"What else is there to talk about?" I didn't mean it cruelly. But Mick had been a chapter in my life, a wonderful chapter, sure, but a chapter that had ended. There were no more words left to our story, and I was ready to turn the page.

"See, the thing is, I've been thinking a lot lately. About our break up? And I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings. I've actually been meaning to speak to you for a while now, and I guess I just never got around to it." He looked at me, grinning almost embarassedly. "You know me, I've never been really good with feelings." No kidding. "But seeing you up there on stage," he continued, "I guess it just really hit me how much I missed talking to you. And if we could go back to being friends, I would really like that. And, I mean, you're probably the best personal trainer I've ever had."

I laughed a little bit, leave it to Mick to bring up sports. He looked relieved that I hadn't started sobbing yet. With the realization that I harbored no traces of feelings for Mick came the freedom to truly admire our relationship for the first time since the dreaded words 'We need to talk' came out of his mouth two weeks ago. I remembered how sweet he was, how honestly good he had been to me before everything turned sour. Before tonight, I never would've thought that I could be friends with the boy who had broken up with me. Now I wasn't so sure. Mick may have broken up with me, but he hadn't broken my heart. Not by a long shot. So what was the point in harboring grudges?

"Mick," I made my voice as gentle as possible, "I hate to break it to you, but you aren't as much of a heart-breaker as you seem to think. I'm not mad at you."

He looked shocked. "You aren't? But...I broke up with you." He honestly looked so confused, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes, you did." I agreed. "But you were right. We weren't good for each other." As the words came out of my mouth, I realized how true they were. Mick was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. He was supportive and sweet. He brought me flowers for no reason and never broke a date and kept all of his promises. But he could also be spiteful and insensitive, and I can't deny that I never, ever felt good enough for him. In our relationship, I never felt equal. And as a result, I became a person I am not proud of. I was jealous and clingy and I questioned every 'I love you'. Mick never did anything to deserve my distrust, but he received it anyway. I couldn't help it. My world began to revolve around him, and that's never how it should be.

We brought out the worst in each other. _"I guess you bring out the best in me, Mara Jaffray." A silky smooth voice echoed in my memories_.

"I'm not mad at you." I repeated.

He studied me closely for a minute, I guess checking to see if I really meant it. When my face remained neutral, he broke into the biggest grin I had ever seen. "Well that's awesome, Mars!" He lept out of his seat, pulling me out of mine and embracing me in a huge hug, lifting me off the ground and spinning me in a circle.

"Mick!" I wheezed, squirming to remove myself from his death grip. "Can't breathe!"

"Oh...right." He put me down, looking around the room as if realizing for the first time that we weren't alone. His eyes returned to my face, his face still split in a grin. "So, friends?" He looked so hopeful, I knew what my answer would be before he had even finished the question.

"Yes, Mick, we can be friends." We had been a pretty good team, before a relationship had turned everything sour. Besides, like it or not, Mick had been the center of my universe for 6 months. When someone knows you that well for so long, its hard to cut them out of your life completely. I would be lying if I said I hadn't missed Mick, at least a little bit.

Above all else, though, I just didn't have enough fight left inside of me to care anymore. I wasn't hurt or angry, I was just empty. Hollow. And too busy wondering where the last member of Anubis House was hiding to really give a damn about anything else.

"So," I tried to make my voice casual, "did everyone else go home?"

"What?" He sounded distracted. Now that he had gotten what he wanted from me, his mind was already wandering. "Yeah, I think so." He stopped eyeing another performer, a pretty cheerleader who had performed a dance routine, over my shoulder long enough to glance curiously at me. He saw through my nonchalance, picking up on the eagerness that lay beneath. "They all came to congratulate you, didn't they?"

I sighed, forcing half a smile. "I suppose they did." I gave him a small, playful push. "Now go! I know for a fact that the cheerleader has been pining after you for weeks."

"Really?" He gave a small laugh. "Cool. I'll see you later, Mars. You did great, tonight!" And then he was gone, off to flirt with his latest conquest. Leaving me to wonder why the only person who's presence I most desired had been the only one to remain absent.

It seemed performing at the talent show had tied up every loose end in my life except the one I really wanted it to.

The chiming of the clock brought me back to the present, bright lights and laughter of earlier today fading into the dark silence of the dressing room. 9:45. I guess he really isn't showing up.

Angrily, I throw the moist cloth I had been absentmidedly using to remove my make-up against the mirror. It lands with an angry thump, sticking for a moment before sliding down, leaving a trail of distorted images and water droplets in its wake. I gaze at the crumpled cloth in angered disappointment, focusing on the streaked white in an attempt to bite back hot tears.

"My, my, don't we have a temper today." A voice, an oh-so familiar voice, sounds from behind me. It is cruel and taunting and sends shivers down my spine. My head snaps up, and for a minute I'm unsure if the voice is real or a figment of my whishful thinking.

"OH!" I almost fall off my seat in alarm, my heart rate accelerating to the point where I'm afraid its going to beat right out of my chest.

I can hear the smile in his voice. "Feeling a bit jumpy?"

"JEROME!" I'm caught between rage and excitement. Cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck and my heart catches in my throat and he came, _he came_. "Don't you EVER do that again."

"What, can't take a joke? Come on, _Mars_," he twists the name into an insult, "I thought you were tougher than that."

I still haven't turned to face him. My face is flushed and my chest rises and falls with the heavy labor of each breath, and its all I can do not to leap out of my chair and slap him and smother him in kisses all at the same time. Neither would be a good idea, though, so I just listen to the rapid beating of two hearts in the unearthly silence as I slowly raise my gaze to look into the mirror. There, staring back at me, distorted by the drops of make-up remover that still cloud the glass, is the unmistakable figure of Jerome Clarke.

He smiles that calculating smile that I have come to know and love. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

**Well, there you have it! **_**Innocent**_** part two! With a cliffhanger and everything. Eh, not my best work :/ I am so sorry guys, I promse you that if you just stick with me a little longer part 3 will be everything you hoped for.**

**Well, you know what to do! Review! Tell me what you loved, tell me what you hated, constructive criticism makes the world go round and all that. I'll give you a cookie :)  
>-Moments<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello to my lovely, wonderful readers! After many months of no updates, I'm back with a HUGE apology. I am so sorry that this is taking me so long to write, and that my updates happen so irregularly. **

**To everyone who has favorited, followed, or left a review: thank you so much. You have no idea what all the positive feedback means to me. I hope you have all stuck with me through my hiatus, and that you think this chapter is worth the wait. To any new readers, thank you for picking my story. I hope you like it (:**

**Finally, I know I said last chapter that this would be the final part, but I couldn't bear the thought of going any longer without an update, so I split chapter 3 into two parts. I'm about halfway done with Chapter 4, and this time I really do mean it when I say it is the last one. **

**So, without further ado, here's chapter 3! Enjoy :3**

"My, my, don't we have a temper today." A voice, an oh-so familiar voice, sounds from behind me. It is cruel and taunting and sends shivers down my spine. My head snaps up, and for a minute I'm unsure if the voice is real or a figment of my whishful thinking.

"OH!" I almost fall off my seat in alarm, my heart rate accelerating to the point where I'm afraid its going to beat right out of my chest.

I can hear the smile in his voice. "Feeling a bit jumpy?"

"JEROME!" I'm caught between rage and excitement. Cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck and my heart catches in my throat and he came, _he came_. "Don't you EVER do that again."

"What, can't take a joke? Come on, _Mars_," he twists the name into an insult, "I thought you were tougher than that."

I still haven't turned to face him. My face is flushed and my chest rises and falls with the heavy labor of each breath, and its all I can do not to leap out of my chair and slap him and smother him in kisses all at the same time. Neither would be a good idea, though, so I just listen to the rapid beating of two hearts in the unearthly silence as I slowly raise my gaze to look into the mirror. There, staring back at me, distorted by the drops of make-up remover that still cloud the glass, is the unmistakable figure of Jerome Clarke.

He smiles that calculating smile that I have come to know and love. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."

_I guess you really did it this time,  
>Left yourself in your warpath.<em>

Jerome Clarke came for me. I try to hold on to that thought as I whirl around to face him, raising my eyes to meet his icy, indecipherable glare. "You're a little late," I keep my voice as cold as his stare. "I was just leaving." _Please don't go, please don't go, please don't go._

"I actually wasn't going to come at all," he drawls lazily, sauntering into the room with the slow, easy gait of someone who knows he'll be waited for, "but then Alfie came to me with some fascinating news. Apparently," he raises an eyebrow, "Jara is a thing now. I'm sorry, I wasn't aware. Please excuse my lack of flowers and chocolate."

I was going to kill Alfie.

Jerome's biting sarcasm cuts to my core, eating away any hope that this encounter would end with me in his arms. I had waited all night for him to show up, but now that he was here I wanted nothing more than for him to go back to Anubis house and leave me to my thoughts. I'm not sure what I was expecting from our first meeting after I sang my song. Anger, maybe. Frustration, definitely. But no matter how many times and how many different ways I had envisioned this conversation, it had never involved this...indifference. This nonchalance that implied nothing had happened at all. Here he was, in my dressing room, completely ignoring the fact that mere hours earlier I had bared my soul for the entire school to see.

This was supposed to be confrontation. This was supposed to involve raw feelings, and truth, and getting to the root of our problems so we could overcome them together. I wrote the song for closure, so Jerome could realize that it was never too late to change for the better. So he could see that I still believed in him, in his light, no matter what anyone else thought. I did _not_ sing for the first time, in public, on a stage in front of all of my peers, just so I could be mocked by the person I was trying to help.

I feel my frustration threatening to bubble over. "Forget about Amber and her stupid nicknames. Isn't there anything else you'd like to talk about?" I give him a second chance, praying he'll grab it.

He shrugs. "No, not particularly." I glare at him and he smirks, clearly enjoying my annoyance. "Why, Mara," his voice is innocent, "is there something _you_ would like to talk about?"

"That depends, Jerome," I fire back. "Did you suddenly go deaf during my performance at the talent show?"

Fire sparks in his eyes, thawing the ice. "Of course, the talent show. How could I have forgotten about it? I didn't know you sang, Mara. We could've used that as a campaign strategy back when you were running for student body representative." He pauses for a moment, contemplating his last statement. "Oh, that's right, you ditched me for the Meathead. Never mind, then."

"Don't call him that!" My response is instinctual, thoughtless. Defending Mick was a habit I had picked up after months of listening to Jerome's insults, a side-effect of being his girlfriend that hadn't yet worn off.

For the first time all night, the shadow of a real emotion crosses Jerome's face.

I seize the moment and run with it. "He came to visit me tonight, you know." The words pour out of my mouth, almost of their own accord. "We worked things out, decided to give being friends a go. That song wasn't for him, but I'm glad we don't have to act like strangers anymore. He was too big a part of my life for too long to let him go completely." Jerome bites his lip, running a hand through his hair. I'm baiting him, fishing for a reaction, and we both know it. My approach is working, though, and with each sentence the pained expression on his face grows more apparent. Watching the tortured look that dances through his eyes, knowing that I caused that unhappiness, is almost enough to silence me. But I'm so close to opening him up. And if he's going to fight dirty, then so am I. As an afterthought I add, "Mick's really a great guy," and Jerome's composure finally begins to slip.

But instead of yelling, instead of getting angry, he simply closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if willing himself to calm. When he looks at me again he is back to stone, features chiseled out of unforgiving, uncaring marble. "That's really great, Mara." His voice is a monotone. "We should go back to Anubis and tell him the good news."

He turns to leave and a part of me wants to let him go. The rational part of my brain urges me to watch him walk away, tells me that he is a lost cause who will never care for another human being the way I care for him. But there is a larger, louder part of my mind, or maybe it's my heart, that screams at me to keep trying. Because sometimes there are people worth fighting for.

I'm just getting so tired of playing therapist. "God, Jerome." My voice is quiet, lost in a sigh. He freezes, steps from the door. "You _know_ the song was for you. So why are you pretending like nothing ever happened?" My voice is feeble, prepared for defeat. I half expect him to keep walking.

He whirls around. "Do you think I'm stupid?" Words escape through clenched teeth. "_Of course_ I know that the song was for me. The entire freaking school knows that the song was for me! God, this is so like you! Perfect little Mara, in her perfect little world, with her perfect little friends and her perfect little family. Everything just comes so easily to you, doesn't it? There's not a problem you can't fix. Well, guess what. I'm not some charity case, and I don't need fixing." His control is breaking, cracks in the ice. I can feel his calm, indifferent mask distentigrating.

"Is that what you think of me? That I'm just some spoiled little brat who always gets her way? You're such an idiot!" My voice rises with every word, but I'm done caring. "I didn't write the song so I could _fix_ you. I wrote it because you're not broken. Because no matter what you say about yourself, I know that you can be kind, and I think that you are wonderful and bright and _I love you_."

The weight of my speech hangs in the air, dragging us down. Those three words, _I love you_, echoes through an agonizing pause. We are glaring at each other from opposite sides of the room, breath escaping in heavy, angry bursts, and I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes as I realize the full impact of what I just said. Hot waves of embarassment crash over me, cheeks flaming crimson. I decide to bring up the L word in the middle of an arguement? Talk about bad timing.

Jerome's silence speaks louder than a thousand words ever could. _He doesn't feel the same_. "I'm sorry," I say quietly, staring at the ground. "I shouldn't have said that." And still he says nothing, still there is silence. Heartbreaking, nerve-racking silence. I glance up at him through my eyelashes, waiting for him to laugh at me or yell some more or maybe punch something.

I should have known by now that he will never react the way I expect him to. He crosses the room in three long stride and brings his lips to mine.

**Ooohh, a cliff hanger! Sort of. Chapter 4 coming soon, stick around to find out if Mara and Jerome get a happy ending !**

**What did you think? Loved it, hated it, let me know! Reviews mean the world to me, and motivate me to write faster *wink wink* Constructive criticism always appreciated.**

**Until next time,  
>Moments<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: The long wait is over! The FINAL chapter of Innocent is here! To be honest, I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this, considering I first posted it like a year ago. If you are still reading it, I send you virtual hugs because you are seriously amazing. If you are a new reader, I thank you for choosing my story. I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to finish this thing, but I tried to make this last chapter worth the wait, and I hope you all enjoy it!**

**Warning: This chapter is the reason why the story is rated T. There is a make out scene in the beginning, so if you are opposed to making out (no, they don't go any farther than that) I would skip the first few paragraphs.**

**And without further delay, here is the final chapter of Innocent!**

I should have known by now that he will never react the way I expect him to. He crosses the room in three long strides and brings his lips to mine.

My first thought is that his lips taste like that mint-flavored chapstick Trudy forces everyone to wear when it gets cold out. It smells like menthol but it suits him and for some reason I can't imagine him smelling or tasting like anything else.

My second thought is how different this feels from kissing Mick. Mick's kisses were soft and sweet. They filled my stomach with butterflies and made me feel as if I were floating, flying. Jerome is rough, passionate. His hands slide behind my back, grasping the material of my flouncy dress. His kisses don't lift me up; they floor me to the ground and awaken every sense in my body.

My third thought is that I still haven't kissed him back. His mouth presses urgently against mine, searching for a response, and I come alive. My arms snake behind his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, bringing our bodies closer and closer but never close enough. Our lips move in perfect synchronization, a rhythm pulsing with the rapid beats of our hearts, and suddenly we are stumbling, falling back until I am pressed against the wall. His hands leave my waist and slam onto the cement blocks on either side of my head, trapping me to him-not that I had any intention of leaving. His lips leave mine and hungrily move down my jaw, to my neck, and suddenly I stop thinking much of anything.

He is intoxicating. All-consuming. His lips find mine again and everything is new and different and exciting yet at the same time familiar, like our bodies are two pieces of the same puzzle just waiting to be fit together. A fire sparks inside of me. It starts behind my naval- a warm, tingling sensation that spreads through my chest, buzzing past my heart and lungs before making its way to my head, alerting the nerves in my brain, bringing everything to life. It travels lower, causing my knees to weaken and curling my toes in my ballet flats. The fire ignites other areas of my body, too- forbidden places that I had never allowed another person to touch. Desire unlike anything I have ever experienced rips through me, rips me open, and suddenly I feel the thin material of our clothes is entirely too thick and causing entirely too much separation.

_Get a grip_, the part of my brain that can still be rational warns me. _Now is not exactly the time or place to hand over your v-card_. But Jerome's hands are no longer on the wall beside my head. They are on my hips, gently rocking me closer to him. They are sliding up and down my waist, slowly making their way to the front of my body- and I forget my own name.

He pulls away too soon. He is breathing heavily and his lips are slightly swollen and his normally artfully messy hair looks as if it had an unfortunate encounter with a wind tunnel. I know I can't look much better, and I vaguely wonder what sort of spell he has put me under. I had slapped Mick away before his fingers got anywhere close to where Jerome was encroaching. And trust me, Mick had tried. But with Jerome it was different. I had _wanted_ him to touch me, wanted him to explore all the places I had always forbidden Mick from seeing. No clothes had been removed, but it both scares and enthralls me how enticing I find the idea of simply sliding the thin straps of my dress right off my shoulders, of pulling Jerome's shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor.

Silence once again stretches between us, punctuated only by our labored breaths as our hearts regain a steady beat. His forehead is resting against mine, his pale blue eyes canvassing my face. Searching for what, I'm not sure. Jerome is ice, I've always known this, but suddenly I feel completely too cold as I bring my fingers to my lips and softly touch the place where his should be.

My movement breaks the spell. Jerome backs up, never taking his eyes off mine, and I desperately want to call him back. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was a mistake."

I snap my head up, pulling my body away from the wall so I can bring myself to my full height. A mistake? No, not at all. At least, not in my opinion. That kiss was passion, fire, perfection- not a mistake. Slowly, the fog begins to clear from my head, leaving only one terrifying thought in its absence. Those kisses were the best I ever received, it was impossible to think of them as anything but magic. And the only way Jerome could possibly not feel the same would be if, unlike him, I were a terrible kisser.

Fuck. My cheeks turn scarlet, all the blood rushing to my head. This reaction seems to bemuse Jerome, who is tilting his head as if he just can't figure me out. "Mara, why on Earth are you blushing?" He reaches his hand out as if to touch my burning face, but does not take any steps towards me.

"Look," I say, crossing my arms across my chest, "I know I haven't had a ton of practice. I mean Mick is the only guy who I've, you know, kissed before." I desperately want to diffuse the situation and fall asleep. Hopefully when I wake up, this will all be just a terrible nightmare.

"What are you talking about?"

"And I know you've probably kissed tons of girls before, so..." I rush over him. "It's ok. Really, I understand." Jerome stares at me as if I am some wonderful, exotic creature that he can't for the life of him understand. I can practically hear the gears turning in his brain until what I'm implying finally clicks.

He tilts his head back and bursts out laughing.

"Jerome!" I wonder if it's too late in the semester to switch schools. Or maybe countries. "Jerome, stop laughing!"

He tries to choke out a muffled apology in between paroxysms of laughter, but he can't manage to make a sound. I place my hands on my hips with an angry, defiant huff and tap my foot impatiently, glaring at him until he regains composure. His shoulders shake and actual tears leak from his eyes and I can practically feel myself aging while I wait. "I'm sorry, Mara," he wheezes after he is finally able to regain his breath, although he doesn't sound very sorry at all.

"Are you quite finished, then? Because if you aren't I will gladly go back to Anubis and leave you to your fun."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, attempting to keep a straight face and failing miserably. "I just can't believe," he cracks a smile, his somber facade threatening to crumble, "that you think that was a mistake because you're a _bad kisser_. The idea's laughable."

"Well, what else is there to think?" I wave my hands in exasperation, but I'm secretly pleased by his comment. Not to mention, more than a little relieved. "I don't understand you. First, I don't think you'll show up at all, and then when you do, you act as if nothing happened. And then you're mad at me, and we're fighting, and then you _kiss_ me, and now you're saying it's a mistake? If you feel a fraction of the way I do about that kiss, then there's no way you could ever call it a _mistake_." The word tastes sour. "So obviously you don't feel the same."

I reach my terrible conclusion, and Jerome stares at me for a few seconds before closing the small distance between us. His hands reach out to cup my chin, gently tilting my face upwards until I am gazing into his eyes. He lets out a huge sigh, like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. "Mara," he brings his forehead down to rest against mine, "that kiss was amazing. _You're_ amazing. And that's precisely why it was a mistake."

Jerome's proximity doesn't exactly help to clear my thoughts, but I'm not about to push him away. I ponder his words for a moment, trying and failing to make sense of them. "You're not making any sense." I hedge, hesitant to speak at all. Jerome's like a wild animal- any sudden noise or movement might scare him away.

Thankfully, he doesn't budge. Instead, he lets out another sigh, his breath tickling my face, as if the answer is so obvious that even Amber would be able to get it right on the first try. "What I'm saying is that I don't deserve you."

Jerome says this so quickly and plainly that at first I think I misheard him. "I'm sorry, you don't _what_?"

"I don't deserve you." There's no mistaking his words. He smirks a bit at my expression, which is trying to decide whether to be confused or appalled. Gently, he reaches up a hand and touches a crease in my skin where my forehead had scrunched up in confusion. "You're going to give yourself wrinkles, Mars." He jokes, as if the last two seconds had never happened. As if he had not just uttered the most preposterous statement I had ever heard.

I shake my head and, although it is almost physically painful to do so, take a step back, removing myself from his embrace. I want to see his entire face. "Jerome Clarke." My voice is impassioned, fueled with emotion. "How dare you say that? How could you_ possibly_ think that you don't _deserve_ me?"

"Its quite simple, Mara." Now he also looks confused, as if he can't understand why his statement would cause me so much distress. "We're from two different worlds. You're smart, loved, kind, beautiful. I'm nothing but a liar and a cheater. I'm no good for you. You think you want me, but you don't. You don't love me; you love the _idea _of me. The poor, damaged boy whose parents don't love him. It's all very tragic, isn't it? But, of course, _you_ can fix him. _You_ can swoop in and make him feel loved. Mara Jaffray can save the day." He doesn't sound angry, or sad. Just kind of empty, like he'd accepted these truths a long time ago and was a bit astonished that I still hadn't caught on.

"I don't want to fix you." How many times did I have to repeat myself before he understood? "I don't need to fix you because you aren't broken." He opened his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off. "I know what this is really about, Jerome. You're afraid. You're afraid of opening your heart to me. I know I hurt you before, when I picked Mick over you." The words rush out of my mouth, like I'm afraid he'll stop me if I give him the chance. He just stands there, still as a statue, dumbfounded. I take a step towards him. "You have to believe me when I tell you that picking Mick over you last semester was the stupidest mistake I ever made. And I know a lot of people won't understand my decision, and you might not even understand my decision, but I love you. Not just the idea of you, but you as a person. No one is perfect. Hell, we all know I'm far from it. But you see the real me, and you love me anyway." My statement fills me with a surge of confidence. He doesn't have to say the words out loud, I can see them in his eyes, feel them in his kiss. Jerome Clarke loves me. The thought fills me with a sort of anxious, giddy excitement. "I know you think that everyone is like your parents, but not everyone is going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you. Not ever again. So drop the martyr act and admit that you want me just as much as I want you." I finish my speech and look him earnestly in the eyes, holding my ground against the unfathomable depths of his icy glare.

There's a beat of silence before his lips find mine again. This kiss is softer, sweeter- heavy with defeat. I can't help by smile against his mouth, savoring victory. He pulls away just enough to speak. "God damn it, Mara." His voice is rough, raspy, sending shivers down my spine. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"It's part of my charm." I reply coolly, smirking. "And one of the reasons you love me."

"I do." He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the ground. "I do love you, Mara, and I've tried so hard to fight it. But you're right, everything you've said tonight was right. I've been in love with you for over a year, no matter how many times I've tried to convince myself otherwise." His voice sounds tired, and as he runs a hand through his messy hair I realize how he really did think that we were making a huge mistake. He hadn't been lying when he said that he thought he was no good for me.

"Hey," I say softly, tilting his chin up until he is looking me in my eyes, "I know what I'm getting myself into. You know that, right? I know we both have our faults, and that things might get tough every now and then, but I'm not going to run away. And there is nothing you can say to make me believe that this is a bad idea. You're stuck with me."

He smiles for the first time all night, a real, genuine smile that stretches across his face and lights up his eyes, erasing any trace of cruelty or sarcasm. "You know, if you keep repeating things like that, I just might start to believe you."

"That's the plan." I kiss him again, lightly, before wrapping my arms around his waist and burrowing my head in his chest.

He pauses only a moment before engulfing me in his embrace, kissing the top of my head. "I love you, Mara Jaffray," he whispers into my curls. My heart flutters in my chest, and butterflies wing their way through my stomach, and for a moment I feel as if time has frozen. Like the entire world has ceased to exist, and it's just me and Jerome, and the warmth of his arms around me, and the way the sliver of moonlight that filters through the room illuminates the place where we stand, painting us silver. And as we stand there, perfectly silent, I think that even if I had the chance to go back and fix every mistake that Jerome and I ever made, I wouldn't.

We aren't the perfect couple because we aren't perfect people. We make mistakes and we say things we don't mean, but we accept each other and no matter what anyone might think I love Jerome because of his flaws, not in spite of them. I don't know what the future holds for Jerome and me, but I can't think of one place I would rather be than right here in his arms.

And, at least for now, that's enough.

_Lost your balance on a tightrope,  
>It's never too late to get it back.<em>

THE END

**So, there we have it. The last chapter. Liked it, loved it, hated it, tell me in a review! The reviews, favorites, and follows this story has received have seriously meant the world to me, because this was my first fanfiction and the positive response it received inspired me to continue writing. So, please, tell me what you thought of this last chapter! **

**Love you 5ever,  
>-Moments<strong>


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